“Oh, yes, the limp,” said Laveth bitterly and closed the shutter with a bang. “There’s no use railing against what I can’t change. I’ll speak to the King of your leaving before he retires for the night. I’m sure he’ll give his consent and, in a few days, you’ll begin for Glynnis Fen.”
The Queen sank to the floor and laid her head on the knee of her old nurse.
“Ruse is not the only one I’ll miss.”
Nan Maura began to trace the braids woven about the gold circlet, the blue veined temples, the brows. Laveth was a beautiful woman, but this ordeal had aged her. Nan Maura rubbed at a new line on her forehead, wishing with all her heart that her anguished expression could be rubbed away as well.
“You’re my child the same as the boy is yours.”
“Tell me what to say to the King.”
Nan Maura began in a soft voice that once told stories and sang songs to the woman now slumped at her feet. “Tell him Nan Maura is old and wishes to die by her own fire. He will understand death. I’ll require only a few belongings and the deaf mute from the stable, Trask, who came with us and knows the way.”
“And the basket?”
“The basket will be secure, safe for a slumbering prince.”
“The sleeping tonic . . “ Laveth raised her head. “Nan, don’t give him too much!”
“Have no fear.”
“If we are caught?”
“I will be caught.”
Laveth nodded, “And the other . . . prince?”
“He’ll be sleeping in the royal crib, consoled by the same tonic. He is a fair, bonny boy, a match for your own. Laveth, the two boys could be twins.”
Nan Maura was referring to the child she’d bought from the bar maid who worked at the Fish Belly. She spotted the babe, whom she would have believed was the prince himself had she not known better, clutching the skirts of his mother in a village square. The idea had sprung into her mind at once. A wild idea, but now it had proved to be their only choice.
“I can’t love another’s child while my own is gone.”
“Some things can’t be helped,” Nan Maura shrugged. Let Mirella tend to him. Wherever she may be.”
